


A Secret Path

by thedasfreak



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1285147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedasfreak/pseuds/thedasfreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story for M!Cousland/ Alistair that typically follows canon with some slight deviations. I've tried to keep repetition of the game down to a minimum but the story does follow the same timeline as the game with a few episodes before its beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A night with the guard

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, the characters of the game, or any affiliated material. I do not claim anything in this work is decidedly cannon. Bioware owns the rights to Dragon Age and makes decisions regarding its cannon. This disclaimer will only appear on the front page, but applies to the work as a whole.
> 
> Author's notes: I tried to keep this piece considerably cannon-realistic despite it's obvious non-cannon elements. This piece assumes the Ser Gilmore mod never existed (and therefore Ser Gilmore never escapes Howe's torture chamber). Hopefully it will be interesting and give an insight into the pressure felt by a (closeted) male Cousland and any potential lover. This is my first fanfic, though not my first experience with writing, so input is welcome.
> 
> A note on requests: Please feel free to contact me for any reason, including for requests. To clarify, I mean that you should feel free to request certain information, certain story elements (i.e. "more action", "more angst", "get on with it"), or certain developments. I cannot guarantee that I will comply, but I will make every effort to ensure that reasonable requests are granted.
> 
> A note on dates: I have included dates in some instances to lend an air of authenticity to the work. I have made every effort to ensure the timeline is congruent and the dating system is accurate, but apologize in advance for any issues that may arise.
> 
> A note on notes: Most of my chapters will not have this great a volume of notes. I thank you for your patience with them when they are numerous.
> 
> Rated E for Lemons
> 
> This is a republication of this work. I deleted this work under another name during a fit of mania. Now that I am medicated and better I will republish and hopefully complete this work. I will take this opportunity to edit and extend the work when possible.

"The Teyrn has said we are to march north to the coast by the end of the week. It's nothing glorious, of course, but it is your own commission," started Ser Roland Gilmore, at a most inappropriate time.

Aedan groaned. He pulled down the blanket that had been draped over the other man and popped his head out from under its folds. He looked to his lover with a clenched jaw and a bitter expression "Andraste's Sword, Rory!" he groaned, "I know how important you find duty but do you think, just maybe, you could avoid talking about my father when my head's between your legs?"

"Sorry M-" Rory began to apologize, though he was cut off by a further aggravated Aedan Cousland.

"Andraste's argg" Aedan groaned, not even able to finish the expletive, "if you call me your lord right now, by the Maker I'm putting my clothes on and walking out of this room, seriously."

"Sorry, old habit" Rory sighed lightly, as he realised that all his talking was making the situation rather awkward.

With so few chances to explore his lover in the lack-of-privacy that was Cousland castle, Aedan refused to let this opportunity pass him by, despite his aggravation. He regained his composure and pulled himself up, leaning over Rory as he looked longingly into the other's eyes. Aedan's hand traced its way, slowly, to where his lips had been. "I much prefer your habit of sneaking into my room and laying with me, gorgeous" he whispered into the other's ear, his sultry voice acting more as a sensation of lust than a sound. He leaned in and kissed the other gently. His fingers wrapped around Rory's manhood and began their work. He pulled away and flashed a wicked smile, one that was used far too often and rarely meant as much as it did when he was with his lover. "Now," Aedan began as he leaned back in to bite at the other's earlobe gently "stop thinking so much."

Despite his sense of duty often getting in the way of his fun, Rory needed no more encouragement than Aedan's words moving through him like a gloriously pleasant poison of the mind. Rory sat himself up slowly and took charge, pushing Aedan to the bed beneath him before he positioned himself over the other man and began to return the kisses he'd been getting. For his part, Aedan was finally able to stop thinking. He could stop thinking about his father, his mockery of a military career, and all the women he had to flirt with for the sake of saving face. He was able to melt into the bed and allow himself to be taken over by the sensation of Rory's lips against his, the man's worn hands against his flesh and, before long, the sensation of their manhoods running against each other tauntingly, teasingly. His attention became entirely focused on the pleasure he was receiving, and his seemingly insatiable craving for more.

Rory slowly kissed down Aedan's chiseled form. Despite their youth, both men had been training long enough that every inch of both bodies seemed sculpted into place like an Orzammar statue. Aedan's eyes almost rolled back as he let a soft moan escape, both in pleasure at the feeling, and in expectation of what was to come. His expectations were met and exceeded, as always, when Rory's lips wrapped around his manhood and began the same work Aedan had abandoned at the earlier interruption. He moaned louder, glad once again for heavy stone walls and noise muffling doors. Within minutes, he was so close to finishing that it was almost painful to pry Rory from his nether parts and pull him back up to be level with him.

"Is something wrong?" Rory asked through hard, long kisses and heavy breath.

"Nothing" Aedan answered softly, smiling and chewing on his bottom lip slightly, "but I want to take you" and again the smile turned wicked, almost mischievous.  
Taking the cue, Rory laid back, allowing the other to position himself on top of him. Despite his compliance, he couldn't help but pull the Aedan in forcefully for a kiss, as if to prove he could still command the other. Aedan always loved how even compliance was a battle with his lover, and he moaned blissfully into the kiss even as he pulled the other's legs to hang on his hips. He let himself remain enthralled in the kiss, supporting himself with one arm as he positioned himself teasingly against the other's entrance, and took once again to running his fingers against the other's hard length. Still, he waited to do more, teasing the other tortuously until he finally heard Rory's voice, almost pleading as it whispered "take me." Aedan pushed himself beyond the precipice and his hand gained a rhythm in its thrusts against Rory's shaft, moans escaping both their lips as they lost themselves in each other, in the ecstasy of the all too fleeting moment.

It could not last, of course. Both muffled sounds of coming when the time inevitably arrived and they shared few kisses before their armor was put solidly back in place, and the masks worn outside those walls had to be forced back on their faces. Still, those fleeting moments were precious, and they made up the only truth in Aedan's life of lies and secrecy.

_The Journal of Aedan Cousland_  
9:30 Dragon—Seventh of Guardian  
Despite my lover's constant reminders of the life outside my chamber walls, I cannot help but be lost in the time we share together. I understand that both our responsibilities would keep anything significant from developing between the guard and I, both for the obvious reason that my lover is a guard and for the reason I must keep away from paper. Still, it is refreshing to fantasise, to pretend that someone in my position has the right to love whomever, and enjoy whatever company. Still, we are hardly Orlesians, and one must return to reality and face one's duties, even as a second son with no true purpose beyond that of an insurance policy less the heir does not fill his own shoes. Mother and Father would never say as much but I believe it is all too clear that Fergus is the necessary son and Oren the next in line. My position is one of duty and secrets with no real benefits. But those eyes, those hands, those lips—they are worth every moment of secret, no matter how seldom I feel them upon me. 


	2. To Love or to Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedan tries to gauge Ser Gilmore's affections.

The end of the week came far too fast, with little more than formalities exchanged between the lord and his guard. Worse, it came with unexpected news rather than a commission. Aedan's heart sank when he heard the commission was, once again, going to Fergus instead- another notch on his sword rather than a first on Aedan's. Rather than travelling north with a compliment small enough to justify excusing himself often with Ser Gilmore, who was to be acting as his first officer, Aedan was to go to Amaranthine and attend yet another banquet in hopes that he may meet someone before his father felt pressed to make a match. Glorious, he thought sarcastically to himself. Still, the news did afford an opportunity despite his sinking heart. In delivering the news to Rory, perhaps he'd know what it all meant for the other man.

With that purpose in mind he set out to find the guard in question. Aedan found Rory in the company of the guard captain as well as nearly a full compliment. Great, he thought dismally, preparing his silver tongue for the task of prying his lover from watchful company without raising suspicions.

He approached, a formal and meaningless smile spread wide across his lips "Captain, I'm afraid I'll need to speak with Ser Gilmore privately for a moment, assuming this is nothing of particular urgency."

"My Lord, this is highly unusual," protested the captain. 

With a thoughtful, regretful, and utterly fake expression Aedan continued "Teyrn's orders I'm afraid, regarding the commission he is to set out on at first light, can't be avoided and it would be best not to delay," he explained apologetically.  
Ser Gilmore himself looked suspiciously on the other, but followed along regardless. It was not usual for Aedan to raise suspicions in any way, let alone ask for a moment in private in the middle of the day surrounded by guards. Still, Rory was given leave and he followed his, not many options left to him after that appeal. He was lead out to the stables, arguably so they could speak without interruption, but he had his doubts.

"So, what's the emergency?" Roland asked, arching a brow at the somewhat taller man.

"I've lost the commission, you'll be marching with Fergus," he started slowly, careful not to put too much of his own emotion in the statement, searching for Rory's.

"And you couldn't have told me this in front of everyone? Maker, my lord, you raise questions for nothing."

Aedan's heart sank a notch and he couldn't help but spend a moment or two with his gaze in the general vicinity of Rory's kneecaps with his jaw set. "Maybe I thought it would be easier to get an honest reaction in private, sorry for the bother then" he pronounced, looking up to the other's eyes with a newly stone expression.

"Well it's not like it's anything new, your father's always keeping you from commissions. What's on your mind?"

Aedan groaned softly at the mere thought of it "Amaranthine, Howe's daughter and some women lady Landra picked out, some nonsense. I just, I was looking forward to being away from prying eyes is all."

"Well, it has to happen eventually doesn't it?" Rory asked, always the voice of reason. "The arl's daughter is beautiful anyway, you should be glad your father's letting you choose your match."

"Pretty enough, sure, but I have to say she—lacks the proper parts."

"Oh I'm sure the people of the Bannorn would love that, we're not in Orlais, Aedan, sometimes certain protocol must be adhered to."

Aedan scoffed slightly and grinded his teeth on the inside of his lip and his cheeks "so you won't miss me?"

Roland sighed softly and took the other's hands into his own. He looked into Aedan's eyes "I'm going to the coast not off to the wilds, it isn't like I'll never be coming back, Maker knows I'll probably be working in this castle until my last breath."

Aedan felt determined to get a response of some emotion, not more talk of duty and how unfortunate it would be if Rory was trapped forever by his side. Determined to have something, he decided that the knight should miss his body, if not his company. He took a step closer and kissed the other. He tugged softly on Rory's bottom lip before slipping his tongue out to line the other's top lip began to work his fingers towards the straps of Ser Gilmore's armour before the man decided to break the kiss and pull away.

"It's midday, Aedan, and people know we're together, I hardly think coming back with armour full of hay will go unnoticed."

Aedan sighed and pulled his hand free from the other's, turning away slightly "of course, how foolish of me. Well, enjoy the battle, at least."

Rory smiled comfortingly, sorry that he could do nothing more under the given circumstances "if things were different—but we both have things we must do, don't we? Just, try to enjoy your flirting, you're rather good at it anyhow. Hopefully you won't be married by the time we both get back, yes?"

Aedan smiled lightly and dropped his gaze lightly, He opened the stable door for the other, unable to add more words to the situation.

_  
The Journal of Aedan Cousland_

_9:30 Dragon—Eleventh of Guardian_

_'Hopefully you won't be married' what the hell is that supposed to mean? Is it the sign of affection I've been looking for, or merely a sign that we'll have more fun. If I thought there was a chance the guard would accept, I think I would have asked to run off to the provinces together then and there. But, if nothing else, it is clear to me that duty and career will always come first, so what's the point in asking when I know I'd have my heart thrown against a wall anyhow? Well, at least they have good wine in Amaranthine; perhaps I'll be able to forget for a moment that I'm a damned Cousland, enslaved by my own mandatory honour._


	3. Spending time with the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cousland family takes a trip to Amaranthine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the bioware discussion group ( unfortunately cannot link) for Ferelden distances. Note, however, that I've never even ridden a horse, let alone dealt with carriages etc., so my times may be a little off despite my best efforts.
> 
> I am aware that I have not given a description of the Aedan yet. At first, it merely felt awkward and as though it hadn't come up organically. Now that I have a half solution for that, I can't decide whether to make him more realistic, in keeping with the general direction I'm trying to take, or to just make him mod (pt vibrant colours + more hairstyles) approved and explain it. I'll decide by the next chapter and include it near the beginning For those interested, the next chapter will be entitled "Intoxication and Indiscretion" and it brings us back to smutty goodness. It deviates from the established back-story a little, but I thought it would be a good way to flesh out some details and still have some fun rather than sticking to what plausibly actually happened.

Travelling with the family, what a terrible way to pass the time, Aedan thought, almost dying of boredom at a slow jog on his mount. If his father had allowed him to travel on his own and simply rent the horses and switch them, he could easily have arrived in Amaranthine in a full day. As it stood, with his mother along and carriages bringing all sorts of useless fairs, the trip had already taken three days. It wasn't so bad for the first day he couldn't help but think. The closer they got to their destination, however, the more the Waking Sea was determined to spit storms out at them from afar. The whole task was grueling, and he was constantly aware that he'd much rather be weathering the dreaded storms in a camp full of soldiers than riding all day in the pissing wet just to arrive in a strange house in the bannorn and hear his mother complain despite her having been safe in the carriage the entire journey. True, she wasn't some Orlesian housewife, but that hardly kept her from telling tales of how grueling the travel had been. The problem was intensified, of course, by his entire lack of desire to attend the party in Amaranthine or play beau to this or that a lady. But, the Teyrn had insisted both that he attend and that they travel together, despite his concession that Aedan could ride his mount rather than suffer the company in one of the carriages.

Once they arrived at their last resting stop, Aedan allowed himself to become completely lost in his thoughts. Focusing on nothing in particular, he plummeted through circling thoughts of family, of honour and freedom, and of his red haired lover—or perhaps more accurately his mature playmate. He could not decide, and had abandoned trying, instead starring lost in space and simply allowing the vortex of thoughts to push him this way and that. He was so engrossed with the endeavor that he'd even forgotten he was sitting at a dinner table surrounded by his family.

He was drawn suddenly back to reality when his waking trance was broken by a shrill voice.

"Uncle, uncle!"

"Mm?" Aedan let the sound escape as he pulled himself back to full consciousness "sorry Oren, what were you saying?"

"When you get a commission, will I be your squire?"

"No, Oren, squires are boys from the noble families of the bannorn, usually. You'll train with them once you're old enough, but you won't be a squire."

"But, why can't I be one if I want to?" He protested. "Mother says I'm too young to be a soldier."

"You'd be too young to be a squire yet anyhow, Oren" he responded tenderly, though the other adults could detect a hint of impatience caused by the slew of questions.

"I'm too young to do anything yet," the boy complained.

Aedan sighed softly, but thought for a moment. He was only a few years older than Oren when Rory had arrived at Highever castle and he'd begun complaining constantly about not being a squire. His own fits had been considerably more violent despite the advantage of a friend his age. There has to be something to calm him with he thought silently.

Finally, the idea came to him, and with his mischievous grin once again plastered on his face he looked to Oriana. "Don't hate me for this" he said ominously as he began to run about gathering things from his pack and various supply crates the family had brought along.

"For what? What are you doing?" she began, anxiously inquisitive.

"Maker, pup! You're scarring the lady half to death" the Teyrn weighed in as a measure of protest, Fergus being away with the men rather than in attendance.

Finally, Aedan had gathered the necessary items and he squatted before Oren, who had gotten up in excitement.  
"I'm going to teach you to be a drummer boy, Oren, and we're going to start by making you a drum" he smiled, eyes gleaming as though he were the nine year old.

"Can I, mother?" Oren begged.

Anxious that he may one day want to be a drummer for an actual battle, but relieved to hear a delaying tactic rather than anything actually dangerous or ridiculously filthy, Oriana reluctantly agreed.

The two of them ran off to sit on the floor in front of the hearth, and Aedan showed Oren how to piece together a drum from items that really seemed more like random scrap than drum material. After the task, he taught Oren to play it. The other adults make no protest despite the irritation caused by the sound—it was the first occasion in some time that Oren really seemed happy to them. Though they could not know it, the night was by far more beneficial to Aedan who was, for once, not simply feigning happiness for the sake of his family. Lost in meaningless tasks and able to see the wonder of the world through the innocent eyes of his young nephew, he was truly happy despite everything else in the world.

The night went on and the boy eventually abandoned the drum, dropping his head to Aedan's lap in exhaustion.  
"Uncle, can I ride with you tomorrow?" he asked in the same shrill voice, though it was muted some by his sleepy haze.

Aedan ran his fingers through the boy's hair, absently but soothingly. "Why do you want to ride with me Oren? Wouldn't you rather stay in the carriage with you mother and gram'a where is warm and dry?"

The boys yawned lightly, though it did not stop him from answering through the yawns "father says if I want to be a soldier I'll have to get used to bad weather."

"We don't have a spare saddle anyhow, but if you really want to I can switch out Ela for one of the stronger horses and we can ride together if your mother says it's okay."

"I hope she says it's okay," he declared dreamily.

"Come, Oren, let's get you to bed" Aedan had barely finished speaking the words when the boy was fast asleep. He picked up the small form and carried him off to his mother's room, laying him to rest before leaving to attend to his own things.


	4. Intoxication and Indiscretion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family finally arrives in Amaranthine.

Aedan stood before a large mirror in the closet sized room he'd been generously afforded by the significantly less wealthy host. He held lengths of his hip-length black tresses in hand, contemplating what they had meant. He'd always worn his hair more as a crown than actual hair, proud of its amazing ability to remain perfectly straight and lush despite the challenges of the harsh Ferelden climate. He'd always adamantly refused to cut it despite any reasons given. It seemed odd to him now that despite the abandonment of his youthful naivety, and despite what this had meant for his love life, he had kept the hair of all things.

He sighed despondently at the knowledge that his hair, like all things, could be no more than a passing phase.  _Still,_  he thought  _I've got a better lot than Fergus regardless of the length._ Despite the narcissism in the statement, it had to be admitted that he was right. His uncharacteristic inheritance of both the jet black hair and the, generally recessive, ice blue eyes painted a gloriously contrasting image that would always draw more attention than the brown on brown Fergus had inherited. Regardless of this fact, it was with a heavy heart that he pulled out a sharpened dagger and began to hack away at the long silky tresses, cutting them down to a more respectable shoulder length. Had his life gone according to plan, it would likely have been the single defining factor of his ending youth—the destruction of his vain and useless crown in favour of the practical.

As the length of hair fell from his 6'4'' self, he felt he'd become something else. The change was, it must be admitted, rather minor despite the years that had gone into the crown. Still, looking at what remained of the raven locks near his powder fair skin and his ice eyes, he knew that the life ahead would be as harsh as the stark diagonal lines of the new tresses, though he was as of yet unaware how correct he was.

\---Line Break---

The Couslands finally arrived in Amaranthine by supper of the next night. The change had not gone unnoticed, but Aedan had no words to spare for the topic. Once the dinner was concluded, he excused himself, uninterested in the needless banter of the table and far more concern with preparing and resting for the next day's party, which had seemed to take an eternity to arrive.

\---Line Break---

Aedan had few hopes for this party, but took pleasure in the knowledge that Lady Landra could always serve as a drunken diversion at any given festivity. It was not long into the day when the "pardon me Lady Delilah, but I must tell you how beautiful you are in that dress" and the "you're too modest, lady Iona, but your blushing makes you ever stunning, so who am I to complain?" grew tiresome. Seeking entertainment and enjoyment in the dull task of wooing women he had no interest in, Aedan soon became unsure whether lady Landra would be the drunken fool of the party. His fears were settled rather quickly, however, since it was not long before she started commenting on how "grown-up" and "manly" he looked with his new tresses, soon delving full into talking about how attractive and sculpted he was, flirting like a drunken fool in front of her entire family as she often did. Through his "you're too kind" and "you flatter me", however, he managed to get a glimpse of Dairren. For the most part, Dairren hated these parties, well aware that his mother was an entertainment rather than a credit to herself. Still, Aedan could swear despite his slow decline into his cups that he glimpsed something rather more interesting in the man's expression. If he played his cards right, it could still be an interesting party after all.

"Pardon me miss," he excused himself, not really caring to whom in particular. He found his way to Dairren and chose a rather safe approach for testing his luck. The last tourney had passed not long before, and he'd practically thrashed the man. Still, something had to be said for Dairren's enthusiasm and his relative skill despite the mediocre training he'd likely received. "Lord Dairren, good to see your wounds have healed up nicely. How have you been since the tourney?"

"Well, my lord, though I dare say I'm not quite ready for a rematch just yet."

"Oh please, I just have the benefit of more expensive training. Perhaps I could show you?" despite the innocence in his words, his eyes and the corner of his lips pasted his meaning rather clearly for the other man. If he didn't catch on, chances were he didn't want to.

Luckily for Aedan, he did. From then on, any reference to their sword fighting usually meant the events of that night to either man, rather than the soon forgotten events in the tourney.

\---Line Break---

The affair started as an actual training session, of course. Though the brown haired man had little to lose by making himself plain, Aedan was always burdened by the weight of his name. Half-drunk in an empty tourney hall, however, it was all too easy to make a first advance, and push the event from innocent and congenial to something far more interesting.

Whether it was due to the brief training or his own intoxication, Aedan realised Dairren was doing much better than he had in previous encounters. He knew he had to gain the advantage, however, for his plan to come to fruition. With considerable effort, Aedan slowly pushed the other back towards the wall one step or flourish at a time. Finally, he had brought the other man almost flush against the wall. In a swift motion he dropped he sword and pushed Dairren hard against the wall, pinning his sword hand tightly and forcing him to drop the weapon.

In Dairren's reaction, Aedan got the response he'd been wanting. He was panting, yes, but the look in his eyes gave him away as more than simply tired from the bout. Dairren's eyes searched Aedan's with the same expression Aedan knew too well from his own face at the call of his red haired tempter. He loosened his grip lightly, slowly allowing a finger to trail up Dairren's forearm, impeded by the man's armor from going much further.

Aedan bit his lip softly as he took a slight step back, allowing Dairren a last opportunity to leave if it was what he wanted. His eyes trailed slowly along the body of his father's second, drinking in the scene lest this be his last opportunity to do so. "You know, Dairren," he began "I've always wanted an opportunity to know you better."  
Dairren's eyes widened slightly, having not expected this turn of events from Aedan's constant flirting with women. Knowing that his mind would refuse to form proper words and deciding against babbling on, Dairren slowly led Aedan towards a door, feeling his way along the wall rather than breaking the intense gaze. Fumbling slightly, he reached behind himself to the doorknob of the attached armory, pushing the door open and remaining silent for Aedan's next move.

Aedan followed the other in at a menacingly slow pace before turning him over briskly and both closing the door and pinning Dairren against it in once swift motion. He leaned in close, breathing the other's breathe in the brief moment of thought before his body overtook him and he delved into a kiss as aggressive and passionate as his fighting. Cursing the plan that had ended both men in armour rather than loose clothes, he began working his way to the other's straps, pieces of armor falling to the floor with a clunk with each few he undid.

Dairren was only stunned for so long, returning the kiss passionately and allowing his tongue to tease at Aedan's lips as his hands moved along the other's body, dropping the heavy noble armour to the ground piece by piece.

Before long, both men were bare chested, moving their way through kisses towards the back of the armoury. Aedan broke the kiss reluctantly, taking in the toned form of the minor noble inch by inch as he guided him down tenderly to lay over him.

Dairren, surprised by the shift in control, took the initiative. With an arm laying to the side of Aedan's head he leaned in and rekindled the passionate kissing. His hands moved lightly over the other's bare chest and began working at his breeches delicately. Aedan's fingers trailed with light nail marks down the other's side, lingering over his lips before he began working the other's trousers far more impatiently with one hand, his other slowly working its way down the back of Dairren's pants. Once the front was finally undone, Aedan pushed the pants briskly down past the other's thighs, allowing them to fall most of the rest of the way. Taking in the sights, he'd noticed that his work so far had already left Dairren's smallclothes quite tight, and he licked his lips in self-satisfaction at the breaking of the kiss.

Nearly fully nude, Dairren leveled the playing field, tugging down on the other's pants with light assistance from Aedan raising his hips. He looked over the other's sculpted form, hardly believing the situation he found himself in as he leaned over and began kissing down the taller man's neck, then this check, before slowly moving inch by inch down his abdomen.

Aedan felt his own length stiffen further at the contact, hips jerking lightly in an unconscious search for more. As Dairren's lips moved down to his hip bone and along the side of his small-clothes, Aedan felt a light gasp escape his lips. Dairen continued, biting lightly at the other's hip as he slowly undid the sides of the undergarments, allowing Aedan's throbbing erection to push free of the constraining fabric. He slowly shifted his attention, slowly kissing up the other man's shaft before beginning to tease its ridge with his tongue, receiving deep but light moans in response.  
Aedan's hips bucked up slightly, uncontrolled by his mind. He bit his lips together in an effort to suppress his moans. Dairren smiled at the effect his actions were having before taking the other's length into his mouth and beginning to run up and down it, a tongue teasingly and firmly running along the dorsal vein.

Aedan's hand wandered down into his own body and gripped into the other's hair lightly. He didn't force the other, but he couldn't help but grab at whatever was available, the cold stone floor of the armory offering no way to release the tense sensations running through his body. It didn't take much, inexperienced and teased as he was by Rory, for Aedan to climb closer and closer to the edge.

Dairren ran his fingers lightly along the other's leg, lingering in the journey to the other's member. He sucked in his cheeks and tightened the pressure at the exact moment his hand reached the most sensitive parts of the other's manhood and began to massage them teasingly. It wasn't long after that when Aedan came, hard and considerably loud, thankful for the stone wall and regretting having no material with which to stifle his viscerally enthralled cries.

Almost by instinct, once his seed had been swallowed down, Aedan moved his legs to the other's shoulders, always surprised some by his own flexibility at these moments. Dairren moved up slowly, kissing his way back to the other's lips before sharing a kiss that tasted of Aedan's seed and beginning to tease at the man's entrance.

Despite not having been prepared, Aedan barely acknowledged the pain of the first push into him, still consumed by his orgasm as well as hardened by warriors' pain. The entire affair passed as a fleeting wince before he reached his free hand to the other's neck and pulled him in tenderly for another kiss, moving his tongue into the other's mouth and along his tongue near the same pace and rhythm as Dairren's hard shaft moved in and out of his body.

Tangled in the bodily experience as they were, the men's worlds melted into a series of arms and touches, of tongues playing and bodies thrusting in time, Dairren's manhood pushing harder and faster into the other's heat. Their moans grew louder and louder until they dissolved into a mess of panted breaths and gasps through kissing, both practically screaming in ecstasy when Dairren finally came, causing a similar effect to once again overtake Aedan's body.

Dairren collapsed onto Aedan, pulling out only as an afterthought several moments later. Both lay intertwined and panting, when they heard the sound of the armoury door creaking.

"Oh, pardon" slurred the voice of an overly intoxicated lady Landra "Dairren?" she exclaimed, realizing her son was the one on the floor. I n a moment of drunken panic she closed the door tightly behind her and walked off to join the party. Whether she was sober enough to remember the ordeal, or to realize it was the youngest Cousland (or even a man, for that matter) that her son was entangled with will never be known. The matter was never again spoken of, and there was no awkwardness to suggest lady Landra ever had a clear notion of the events past the fact that her son had laid with someone in an armoury once.


	5. To Bare and to Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedan reunites with Ser Gilmore and reveals how he feels.

_Journal of Aedan Cousland_

_9:30 Dragon—twentieth of Guardian_

_Note to self: you are a blighted fool._

This entry would hardly have been of particular note, had it not appeared directly after a page that had been carefully ripped out and burned. That page, had it been preserved, would have read as follows:  
 _  
Are you proud of yourself, almighty Ser Cousland? Unable to accept your lot you seek like a parasite to instill empty hope into the heart of another, knowing full well that your own heart has long been signed to Rory. You've been a coward, and hidden behind a façade of honour as an excuse for denying your lover his due, and like a tyrant you seek to usurp another. Are you happy in your faithless victory—in the knowledge that a silver gilded tongue passed to you that you may negotiate for the good of your people can be used equally well for your selfish desires and the bedding of pretty men as though they were trinkets for your amusement? Or perhaps it is your vain delusions that produced such shameless pride, a thought that somehow it was your superior beauty that caused good Dairren to be so easily persuaded? You are selfish, and you are a fool. Regardless of your reasons, you know in your heart that you have betrayed both Rory and Dairren by your actions and thoughts, and that you are in dire need of an ounce of honesty._

As was practically a habit, Aedan took too much responsibility for his actions rather than too little. A conversation he tried to avoid would take place between Dairren and himself prior to his departure form Amaranthine. In this conversation, Aedan would reluctantly be convinced that Dairren's participation in their act of indiscretion was not only completely willing but also undertaken for purely physical reasons quite similar to Aedan's own motivations. There were no further expectations, which came as a comforting relief to Aedan, who'd been wrought with guilt over the illusion that he's instilled expectations he could not meet. His mind clear of those thoughts, he focused on the conversation he felt he needed to have with his fire haired Roland.

\---Line Break---

The return trip to Highever passed wholly without incident. The knowledge that a trip to the coast would mean any time with Rory was spent subject to Fergus's watchful gaze had prevented Aedan from any attempt at convincing his father that he should join the men. Instead, Aedan spent the trip to Highever and the additional time before Rory's return in contemplation. Oddly, the more he thought on the situation the more his fears were replaced by hope and excitement. The knowledge that he was finally going to tell Roland how he felt, as well as offer him everything, struck Aedan as strangely light and pleasant. In this light, the wait for Rory took on a feeling of great anticipation rather than dread.

\---Line Break---

The night of his return, Rory sneaked away to Aedan's chamber as he had done many times before.

"Behold!" he exclaimed in mock pride, "I have returned victorious over petty bandits and land surveys."

Aedan smiled at the profession, pulling himself out of bed to walk over to his love and wrap his arms around his shoulder, sweetly gazing at the face he had missed so dearly. "Well then," he began, continuing the game started by the exclamation "such a tremendous feat deserves the utmost gratitude, and, of course—"his mischievous smile tugged tellingly at his lips "—celebrations are in order."

It took no more words for the lovers to melt into a passionate embrace, and Aedan's hands paused barely a moment at the back of Rory's neck before they began their mission of relieving the victorious guard of his armour.

The two made passionate love, bodies longing for as much contact as possible throughout. Even once they had finished, Aedan kept his limbs laced in the Rory's. He smiled softly as he tilted the other's gaze to him, thumb running lightly along his jaw. "Roland," he whispered softly, "there's something I have to tell you." Rory said nothing, but looked attentively at the other, pleasantly spent by their night together. Finally, Aedan managed the words, admitting what he'd long kept secret "I love you, Rory. I would give absolutely everything I have here to be with you, just be a nobody and be happy with you."

Ser Gilmore was surprised by the confession, but it was not the type of surprised Aedan had been hoping for. His smile fell awkward and pained as he unlaced himself from the other and sat himself up, slowly pulling on his smallclothes before making any response. "I love you too, Aedan, but my responsibility and yours is to this castle, and to your family—you know that. As much as I care for you, and as much as our time together has meant to me, I think it is best we stop now, lest I be unable to refuse you the next time you offer—well. I'm sorry, Aedan, for what it's worth." Then, the guard pulled on his clothes, and left. True to his word, every other interaction the two would ever share would be formal and bound by duty.

Had Roland Gilmore told Aedan that his interests were purely physical, had he berated him for his offer, the younger man could have absorbed the shock much better. As it stood, the knowledge that it pained Rory to reject him and that he was simply too honourable to choose happiness over duty filled Aedan with great grief. For the first time since his childhood, Aedan wept, and he sealed his heart as tightly closed as he possibly could.


	6. An Unexpected Diversion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of the Cousland origin story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On gameplay scenes: This chapter is the first that the PC actually plays through in came. Because of this, I thought it would be good to lay out my policy for repeated scenes now. I know we've probably all played through many if not all of the scenes repeatedly and have no intention of boring you with repeated information. Instead, I try to keep the repetition brief and offer it more as an emotion/thought analysis and a decision guide than a complete retelling. Hopefully I'll be able to keep the redundancies to a minimal and explore crucial scenes in a succinct way.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and eventually it became easier for Aedan to go on with his life. It still grated him to be reminded every day of Rory's commitment to honour and to talk to his former lover as though he were nothing but another guard. These things were, however, to be expected. And so it was that Aedan learned to force his emotions to come after duty, something that would be easier if his father bothered to entrust him with any task more grueling than errand boy.

When Aedan woke that morning, he was aware of the darkspawn threat and of the approach of his father's allies, but little more. It seemed it would be a fairly average day in the capital of the Teyrning. He got to his meeting with his father as he'd been expected to, and forced the charm he'd often used for flirting to work at just passively civil conversation. Regardless of whether he was an ally, Aedan cared little for the suspiciously kind Arl or for the history he'd had to learn in which the man's entire family had once been enemies to Highever. Still, politics change as time goes, and being civil seemed the least he could do.

The meeting was brief, to say the least, and he'd learned rather quickly that he would again be passed up for the commission in place of Fergus. Despite obvious personal aggravation at the notice, Aedan was more concerned about the political stupidity of his father's choice. The Teyrn and his only heir were both going to go battle the darkspawn and leave the spare behind? Should one of them not remain away from the life threatening battles for the sake of the country and just send Aedan instead? But of course, like everything with his father, it was more about the pomp, the show, and the honour than any sound decision making or true knowledge of the art of war. Still, he pushed his thoughts back and played the respectful son, taking on tedious messenger boy errands and bowing out gracefully.

All these events fresh in his mind, Aedan was hardly happy to run into an on-duty Ser Gilmore. He was even less impressed to hear the dutiful tone and the directly followed instructions. "Your mother told me to" gnahgnahgnahhh—though in no shape a word, this is the thought that pushed through Aedan's head at practically every word, his annoyance having become the easiest way to avoid sorrow or hopeless obsession.

It wasn't much later that Aedan was interrupted from the first tedious task with yet another. His mother, likely out of anxiety for her husband and her oldest son, had requested the company of her dear friend Lady Landra—the drunk of Dionysian proportions. Luckily for Aedan, she'd brought Dairren along, and the mention of sword play after so many months led Aedan to start thinking of significantly less tedious ways to spend his day. He was glad to easily arrange the affair before finally making his way to Fergus to deliver his message. Predictably, his father was barely a few steps behind him—of course he'd send him off like it was an all-important duty only to do the task himself anyway. And after long, sickeningly sweet goodbyes and faceless compassionate lies to Oren, Aedan was sent to bed during day light hours as though he were indeed 'still a pup.'

Several hours later Aedan heard the soft knocking at his door. He moved away from his writing things and the random gear and potions he'd been taking inventory of out of boredom. He opened the door, smiling to see Dairren on the other side, and he pulled the other in, closing the heavy wooden door before looking to the man with a wicked smile.

"My my, aren't you looking fine today, Lord Dairren" he began, biting his lip lightly as he closed the space between himself and the other man.

"And you, Aedan. I'm glad you told me to come, why my mother insists on dragging me from Amaranthine so I can sit in the study I'll never know."

"Hmm, let's not talk about your mother right now shall we?" Aedan smiled, before slowly moving his hands from his sides up towards Dairren's waist and the back of his clothes. It was easier this time, with both of them in clothes rather than full armour. Less than a minute later, both were standing nude, and Aedan had slyly manoeuvered them closer to the bed with each movement. He brushed his lips against Dairren's, slowly pushing the shorter man back and onto the bed before just as slowly climbing on top of him.

Aedan and Rory had come of age roughly near the same age. Despite occasional commissions, it was unusual for Aedan to go any significant amount of time without the feeling of another man's body pushed so close against his. It wasn't Roland now, of course, but the feeling of a nevertheless familiar body against his intoxicated Aedan, and his fall to passion was a long awaited return to one of the few things in Aedan's life that had a greater meaning than image.

He pressed his lips again against Dairren's, tongue lightly playing at the other's lips before finally breaking past. His fingers moved gently, almost expertly down the other's body, wrapping around Dairren's shaft and pushing into a rhythm of thrusts. He could feel his own manhood pressing against the other's hip, almost begging for contact after long being ignored. It was not long, of course, before this call was heeded, since Dairren could well feel Aedan's excitation.

Feeling Dairren's lips finally wrapping around him after almost a half hour of this early play sent unnameable intense sensations into Aedan's body and left him practically dizzy. Aedan felt his hips involuntarily rolling up against the other as he pulled a pillow close to muffle his moans. His free hand wandered to the other's shoulder and cheek, longing for contact through the slew of intense sensations. After all the buildup, it didn't take long for Aedan to succumb to Dairren's skilled tongue and lips, and his building orgasm finally burst through him and into the other's mouth.

Aedan pulled Dairren closer once both has sufficiently recovered. Aedan kissed Dairren passionately, hand moving to the other's jaw line as Dairren positioned himself between Aedan's legs. Aedan hooked his legs up on the other's hips, melting into their continued kissing and pushing himself teasingly up against Dairren's hard shaft.

Dairren hesitatingly broke the kiss with a soft smile, positioning himself before carefully beginning to push his way into Aedan's heat. Aedan's teeth clenched together against the feeling of being penetrated after so long, but they relaxed and his entire body followed in short order, resting fully down on the bed and moaning against the intense feeling of Dairren's thrusts. He pulled the other closer to his body, kissing his passionately as he began to roll his hips in time with the other's movements. The lovers were intertwined for a considerably time, both eventually finishing and collapsing into each other's arms deep into the night.


	7. The Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part of the events at Highever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought something a little more stream of consciousness would suit both the emotion of this scene, and the level to which instinct is controlling most of the situation. If you can't understand things in this style, or if you'd like me to offer a more straightforward synopsis of what's going on, please let me know.

Beat. A battle cry pierces through the night.

Beat. Metal and stone cry out, a slow and deep lumbering warning issues forth.

Beat. For a moment the night is still, too still, and quiet, too quiet.

Beat. Aedan reaches for his sword, Dairren reaches for the door, Aedan tries to cry out in warning—his voice dies in his throat.

Beat. Dairren hits the ground. Bloodshed, carnage, the world melts and blurs together.

Beat. Pause, questions. The noble son answers by wrote. The warrior prepares for battle by training. Both are the same man.

Beat. The boy he'd loved so much, and his mother lie dead.

Beat. Hatred, war, rage, blood.

Beat. Vault. The warrior plans for escape.

Blood. Stone and blood. Heartbreak and blood.

Rory, pain, hope—duty wins again, a duty born of love, the self-sacrificing beauty of the stone silent song.

Beat. Larder. Duncan, parents. More sacrifice, more duty, more honour—love, again, tying it all together. Heartbreak.

Beat. Escape, running, fuelled by pain and hate and love and unnatural strength.

Beat. Fields, forests, mud paths and swamps fly by his vision, everything seemingly the same. He follows only the armour before him, a foot falls always before the other, driven only by its own momentum.

Hours pass, few more join. Each scene is held to the next with rough and haphazardly sewn scenes, the world is nothing but a blanket of incongruous, harshly sewn seams.

Beat. Running and rushing, images of bloodshed and the pounding force of hate and sadness pound against his racing heart.

Beat.

Beat.

Aedan feels it happening, as if trapped in the beating tempo of time himself. Truth forces him, with all its strength to his knees, and reality gives way beneath him.

Over seventeen hours of barely interrupted haste culminated into an almost violent episode of humanity. Having been only vaguely aware of the events around him, something too crisp to be a dream and too dizzy to be real, Aedan was crushed beneath the force of all his realizations hitting him at once. As though his body had finally decided it was safe enough to stop, adrenaline left, truth set in, and Aedan was violently ill under the strain of it all.

Thoughts raced through his head. The love of his life, his parents, his sister in law, and Oren, the lover of life—dead. His most recent lover, a kind and somewhat misunderstood noble man, as well as his entire family—dead. The Howes—exactly the same spineless traitors their ancestors had been. Even with the stone still standing and Fergus still alive, Aedan would probably never see anything he'd ever loved again. And it had all happened, all of it—for him. After years of having felt like the second, the spare, almost everyone he'd ever known or cared for sacrificed themselves so he could live—all at once. He felt poisoned by the evil of the world, the darkness that festered in humans like the arl more surely than it festered even in the blight itself. Despite having no urge to kill himself, Aedan wished at that moment to succumb to the poison and never wake again.


	8. A Story of Parasitic Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedan is troubled by the events at Highever as he arrives at Ostagar.

Aedan was only vaguely aware that Duncan carried him into the camp he'd set up with the two warden's they'd met on the way. His mind was temporarily lost to reality. He had been propelled by empty awareness and physical training, but the harsh whispers of what had happened were taking him over now. A promise had been made that night, everyone had given everything in exchange for a promise that he would go forth, live, and make some sort of a difference. Aedan was filled with piercing guilt and grating hatred.

As Duncan lay Aedan by the fire, the only truth Aedan was capable of acknowledging was the darkness in the world. Whatever perversion came upon the usurpers of heaven, whatever creatures the blight could spit forth, nothing could ever compare to the evil he'd witnessed in Howe's heart—the perversion of humankind that propelled the greedy to the greatest of injustices, then made them seek to blame anything but human nature. Magic or no, it was the darkness in the hearts of men and women that brought all evil to the world.

Propelled by physical need, Aedan reluctantly succumbed to the fade. Though he was no mage, his time there brought on a great battle against demons. He fought neither demons of desire nor sloth, nor any of their equally fearsome cousins, however, but rather the demons of his own psychosis.

\---Line Break---

Aedan woke some hours later, barely victorious and not the least bit rested. He clumsily ripped the plate of his armour off; pulling close a blanket he'd thrown nearly into the fire during his night time battle. His eyes were vacant, his mind numb in self-protection, and he could not force his limbs to stop clattering despite his best efforts.

It would not be a lack of fear or curiosity that would eventually propel Aedan through the events of his joining but the desire that had already begun to grow in his heart—an intense desire to simply stop existing despite his blood bound duty to live.

Despite Duncan's valiant efforts in the time to come, Aedan would not be able to eat more than a few crumbs a day when he could retain any food at all on the trip to Ostagar.

Along the way, Aedan gained some semblance of control over his emotions and faculties. He was somewhat relieved to learn, when he was able to understand it all, that he'd be joining up with an ex-Templar who'd been raised in an abbey. Without a chance to win this man, Aedan was sure he'd be able to ignore any appeal the other may have. It was not, of course, that Aedan thought himself incapable of controlling his urges, but that he felt a deeply seated fear that wanting any shred of happiness for himself after the events at Highever would make him as thoroughly corrupted and evil as Rendon Howe himself.

In his present state, Aedan could not imagine that it would ever again be possible to live for any reason except the knowledge of those who had sacrificed everything for him. He felt as though any thought beyond his own pain would be treason against their memory. It was these thoughts that made him truly at home in the idea that he would be bound forever to duty and sacrifice required precisely to be nothing more than a living sword against the blight at the cost of any shred of individual desire left in him. The shock that had fully overtaken him prevented any decision, but it seemed he would never have to make a choice again. He could have his death, he thought, while his body honoured the silent blood promise.

\---Line Break---

Aedan's illusion of personal death was promptly shattered by his arrival at Ostagar. Having, to some degree, hoped to remain privately in his mental anguish, he was affronted by the king's questions regarding the welfare of his family. He was similarly accosted by the constant reminder that his brother was somewhere in the wilds, unsure for his own life and unaware of the great tragedy. It was all Aedan could do to remain standing and cold in the face of reality, and he found himself strangely and guiltily comforted by the rumours that this ritual could mean his death.

Forced to act as though his entire world had not been destroyed, Aedan moved on in bitter agony. He found himself hating Daveth, and despite the cries of his conscience, he hoped the man met a rapid death so that he need not tolerate him. Daveth found himself in Ostagar for his own sins, and still he saw it fit to complain of his recruitment as though the wardens had done him a great injustice in saving him from the noose.

Despite the pain with which he faced all of these obstacles, however, it would be the guilt that grew in him with each traitorously un-anguishing thought that threatened to force Aedan completely undone, one great cause of such thoughts would be the exact thing he hadn't expected—Alistair.

\---Line Break---

Aedan felt as though anyone capable of either selfishness or happiness in such a broken world deserved to be hated. Still, try as he might, Aedan could not bring himself to hate Alistair. Something in Alistair brought to mind a sense of happiness Aedan had only ever known in his time with Oren. He was far from a boy, his body made that perfectly clear, but Alistair had managed to retain a happiness usually reserved for the naïveté of youth, and Aedan hated that he couldn't resent Alistair for such a beautiful ability. Aedan found himself earnestly fond of Alistair with uncharacteristic speed, but rather than being glad to have found a friend, or even being afraid that his physical desires would come between them or ruin him, Aedan felt nothing but guilt at caring to any extent for anyone not part of his dark promise and not forced on him by duty. The events at Ostagar and the ensuing time in the wilds only made reality harder to bear.


	9. New Leadership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedan takes charge after the events at Ostagar.

Difficult as it was for Aedan to push back his own agony, he was forced back to existence after the tragedy at the tower. Once only he and Alistair remained, it was clear that he'd be made a leader, whether or not he was prepared for the task. The treachery at Ostagar made it clear that lamenting one series of events forever, though it was inevitable, wasn't practical. The moment you let your guard down, even to acknowledge your own pain, you make yourself vulnerable to the evil in the heart of man, and to the battle men unfit for leadership engage in to secure it. The truth was, someone had to keep their guard up, to keep it together under all the pressure. For the first time in his life, Aedan was put in the position of leadership he'd been bred for and, ready or not, it was time to take charge.

Aedan should have easily been able to find it proper to resent Alistair for not taking the lead. Sure, he'd lost people for the first time, but Aedan had undergone similar extremely recently and the events at the tower could hardly be said to ease his own pain. Still, Aedan couldn't resent him. Alistair had been a happy person before all the tragedy, and he was still a happy person somewhere under all his pain. He never allowed tragedy or pain to make him bitter, or cold—he simply felt everything with great intensity and kept as silent as he could about it. Aedan understood as much. Despite how briefly he had known Alistair, Aedan saw this, and he decided that he'd rather feel whatever he needed to and still find a way to press on and lead than to push even an ounce of unnecessary pain on this wonderful man who, despite all odds, was still neither bitter nor hateful. These thoughts came from more than personal admiration for Alistair, however. Alistair, with his hopeful view of the world, stood as much as an example of all the people worth saving from the blight, all the people who still had anything but poisonous hatred or underhanded ambition running through them.

Aedan came to acknowledge all of this in the brief time after he'd regained consciousness in the wilds and learned what happened. It was a lot to take in at once, but Aedan had no desire to tarry once he knew what he needed to do and what new role he was expected to play. He simply wanted to press on, to worry about darkspawn and putting one foot in front of the other and let all his other thoughts fall into the background. The announcement that Morrigan would be coming with him took him by surprise, though he wasn't entirely convinced he had any choice in the matter regardless. So, he reluctantly allowed her to come along and explained to Alistair that a mage, even an apostate, could easily be the difference between life or death with so few, especially given the lack of finances or even opportunity to stock up on mass amounts of potions instead. It would have to be that way, and it didn't much matter what either of them wanted.

And so the three were off, into the wilds and on their way to Lothering, a journey made easier by the unfortunate truth of the darkspawn's new feeding ground back in Ostagar. This truth stood out in Aedan's mind with every mile forward, and he hoped Alistair had not allowed his own thoughts to stray that way.

The group had left later than Aedan would have wanted if he had been conscious throughout the day, but he knew they couldn't have stayed at the witches' camp. Still, as dusk came on, he wished they had left a little earlier, made better time. But the place they came upon was relatively safe, it was somewhere that could be guarded at least, and the short order of the journey left him plenty of time for the plethora of tasks he knew would fall on his shoulders, rather than anyone else's.

"Here? You want to stop here, of all places?" Morrigan had already begun to nag the moment the call was made.

"Do you have any other suggestions, Morrigan? Because the way I figure we're still less than half way to Lothering and assuming the darkspawn stay at the levels we've been seeing that's still a day's walk, at least. It's dark out, moving around with all our gear by torch is going to make us easy prey as much as anything else" Aedan rebutted, tired and irritated as it was without her input.

"Perhaps somewhere without a mountain face trapping us in?" she practically chanted pejoratively.

"If there are walls all around us, there's only one entrance to watch, which means that one person could feasibly hold watch at a time and still see anything that tries to come in. With only three of us it's the best possible way, we can't afford to have anyone exhausted tomorrow or we're all at a significant disadvantage. Now, please, you don't have to like it but as far as I can see it's my call for now, so unless you actually have some advice instead of just incessant whining then…" Aedan trailed off and it was just as well. Though Morrigan set her face in a frown she didn't say another word, or really do much of anything for that matter.

Despite being new leader, Aedan had no intention of making himself insufferable. So, instead of delegating to the angered witch and the melancholy knight he did nearly everything himself that night: from gathering the firewood and building camp to sorting through the armour and using whatever pieces were intact to make usable sets. He even cooked, well, he attempted to cook and the resulting mess could be swallowed without making one physically ill, which was really better than he'd hoped for with his first attempt at the task.

It became clear, as night fell and the majority of his tasks came to an end, that the bitter Morrigan was really the most independent of his problems. She took care of her own gear and ate the food with disdain but no more complaints. Alistair, on the other hand, seemed about ready to come to pieces. Aedan didn't blame him, but he realized it was time for him to take the role Duncan had been pushed into the entire way from Highever—he had to try to make the other man eat and sleep and take care of himself when the entire world he knew was gone. And, whether it was because his own misery was so fresh or because Alistair made him inexplicably nervous, Aedan didn't relish the idea of needing to push the issue for all their sakes.

Aedan took the only approach he had any cause to believe would work. Namely, he channelled his old persuasive and over-confident self. His signature lie, the alluringly persuasive and somewhat mischievous smile came back across his face by force and he grabbed what food he had before making his way to the fire and sitting down next to Alistair. Alistair wasn't typical, it was true, but his only real hope of success came from assuming that Alistair, like almost any man in Thedas, would be more comfortable in deflecting than starting an emotional conversation with a stranger.

"You know, at least if my slop kills you it'll be the last thing you have to do," he managed.

"Haha, funny. I'm not hungry."

"Look, Alistair, I understand, really I do. But at least eating dinner is one task we know we can conquer, no?"

"Yes, I'll tell the darkspawn to watch out, we can be victorious over dinner."

Aedan laughed lightly at the attempt to alleviate the situation. "I know it doesn't sound like much, but you need to take whatever victories you can get, appreciate them because you don't know how many you'll have, and just know that you're at least doing the things you can."

"Like dinner?"

"Like anything. It doesn't matter whether it's dinner, or darkspawn, or just being able to get up in the morning. Life's hard enough without denying yourself the victories you can have."

Alistair reluctantly took the food with a half-smile, and the men swallowed down the passable food as they could. For Aedan, it was a victory of persuasion, and for Alistair it was a meal with someone who was on his way to being a true friend, someone who actually took the time to make sure he did what needed to be done, as simple as the feat may be, _someone like Duncan_ he thought, with some guilt at the thought that anyone could ever replace the would be father figure.

"So," Alistair started finally, part way through the slop of a meal. "how'd you get so good at convincing people, anyhow?"

"Well, my father, umm, when he was alive, he would have said I learned it from experts so that I could negotiate a new future for Highever if the time ever came. I'll be honest I think I'm only good at it because when I was young it was easy to see how persuasion could come in really handy."

"Really handy like…getting cookies?"

Aedan laughed softly "yeah, like cookies" he lied jovially. "But seriously I think cookies might be a little more wholesome than what I thought of growing up, but boys will be boys, yes?"

"I'm not sure I'd know. Growing up in a chantry hardly gave me any opportunities for cookies, let alone anything unwholesome. Being surrounded by Templars and Brothers it, well it keeps you in line doesn't it?"

"Or doing dishes?"

"Oh maker doing the dishes! I don't think I can count all the times the revered mother sent me to scour the pots for what she called ungentlemanly behaviour," he smiled lightly.

 _Ugh, focus, Aedan. You finally got him eating and talking some don't go melting like a school girl over his smile. He grew up with Templars and Brothers, with their honour and duty and their armour and their physique and—focus!_  Aedan sighed softly, looking absently off into the fire lest he betray his wandering thoughts. He cleared his throat lightly before pressing on, "so… you grew up without any fun at all then?"

"Well I wouldn't say without any fun, but mischief was always clearly laid next to consequences."

"But what are boys without mischief? I remember this one time Rory—umm, he was a guard that worked for my parents but he came to live with us when I was 12 or, maybe younger—anyway he managed to sneak some hot peppers into the batter for a cake, it might have been my birthday cake or something I can't remember, three separate lords almost had a stroke, started crying in the middle of the assembly and everything."

"And they didn't send him home?" Alistair laughed.

"Well, like you said, I can be pretty persuasive. It's all fine and good to talk about rank this and order that but he was my only friend, his being from a so called lesser family was entirely beside the point.

The chitchat continued for some time, and Aedan was relieved he'd managed to distract Alistair enough for the man to head to bed with any real prospects of sleep. Part of him was disappointed that it all had to end, sure, but if they were going to be sleeping in shifts it really had to start sooner rather than later or they'd waste as much light the next day and spend another day in the freezing forest rather than in Lothering.


	10. Something beautiful is budding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a couple days later than I wanted to be uploading this, but I hope you all enjoy. I'll be trying to update around every week.

_The Journal of Aedan Cousland_

_9:30 Dragon—Oh maker what's the date? Early Justinian, probably._

_I'm always so concerned about what I put down on paper, but I guess I really don't have to worry about that anymore. Look at me, a few days ago I was warm in the north and complaining, now I'm freezing in the south and I think things are pretty much as good as they can be for a while. In case anyone ever does find this and the story of what happened at Highever dies with me, I guess I should finally take the time to get it down on paper. In brief, mostly because I don't have the heart to call to mind all the details, Arl Rendon Howe proved a traitor to his allies. Despite our unity in the face of the Orlesians, he turned his back on his dear friend, my father, and killed anyone he could find within the walls of Highever. Of all the Couslands known to me, Fergus is the only one that remains, though I may have a distant cousin somewhere. Well, I assume he remains because I'm not sure I could bear it otherwise. If he lives he's hiding in the wilds without a guide, we shall see what time brings him. The duty I owe him weighs on my soul so heavily, however, that part of me rather we never find him._

_So, everyone, from my former lover the guard to the wonderful boy Oren are—gone. I'm not even sure how I can hold myself together with all that, but I don't have a choice anymore. I am a grey warden, one of only two of the Ferelden order left that I know of. This new world I find myself in, one so different and yet so similar to all I have known, requires that I lead, that I be strong, and that I carry on no matter what has happened or will happen._

_But, not all is dark in the world of the blight. It's almost refreshing now to be faced with the same romantic anguishes that used to be the bane of my existence. To feel my heart ache with longing tells me it's still good for something other than hate. But that in all this darkness I have found a way to see the light, to see hope, to see beauty in the world, is not at all my own accomplishment. I know it's foolhardy and juvenile and most likely never going to happen, but because of Alistair I see some light in the world. And yes, it is something of a speedy infatuation, but the infatuation is not what makes me see beauty, it's quite the opposite. Alistair can see wonder in the world once he's lost everything, without ever having a proper childhood, without really knowing what it means to be careless. He still sees dawn and dusk as beautiful, and I see him staring at every flower we pass by if he's not hilt deep in spawn meat. The point is, his ability to see wonder in the world has made it impossible for me to ignore it, despite my best efforts. This new view of the world and knowing he caused it then lead to the infatuation, not the other way around._

_And I know it's foolish, and I know I'm just dreaming. He's probably the most chaste person in the world let alone… sexually conventional. But to ignore the butterflies he makes me feel, or the blush I have to hide from him, or the fact that I can actually smile for the first time since I was on the trip to Amaranthine with Oren—I can do that even though I know it is unlikely that those sentiments, or my carnal fantasies, will be in any way rewarded. But, it is late, and I presume time to change shifts. We make way to Lothering tomorrow and I should have someone replace me and get some rest.  
_

And he did, though how much actual rest he got behind his soft smiles and contemplation, and behind his fantasies and replaying the image of Alistair stripping down his armour to have it mended, is uncertain.

Aedan dreamt that night, and he faced no demons. Quite the contrary, he dreamed the blissful dreams of someone ignorant to the truth of the world. He dreamed of castles and tutors. He dreamed of love and of children wrestling in bales of hay and all the other trouble children get into. He dreamed of a life without lies and without secrets, but dreams must inevitably succumb to reality.

"Alright, wake up, foods warm and the sun's up, we've got to get moving." Alistair's words interrupted Aedan's sweet slumber, but for a fraction of a moment before he opened his eyes and acknowledge the cold ground beneath his tent's floor he felt as though his dream had come to truth.

"Ughh, Alistair?" he eventually managed. "You cooked? Maker, I'd just decided I wanted to live."

"So funny I forgot to laugh," Alistair called out, in his usual pessimistic but light hearted tone.

And so the day began, and off they were to Lothering.


	11. Greatness Bonds, for one Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedan and the gang stop in Lothering to stock up and make camp before heading on their grand journey and we get a surprise cameo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I hadn't planned to do this, but the first time I published this I had made people wait a very long time for this chapter and thought they deserved a fan-squee kind of a moment.

The trip to Lothering had taken even less time than Aedan's ambitious estimates. Having gained enough trust in Morrigan to heed her suggestions, the men found that whatever Flemeth had given her to get passed hordes of darkspawn unnoticed worked. Not having to save their strength for the darkspawn the group was able to get at a forced march, aided by the fact that their packs were now almost desperately light.

It was good they arrived relatively early. They estimated maybe two or three days before the horde would be dangerously close to Lothering. Though it was night by the time they got there, and all the rooms had been taken long before, they could reasonably stock up and still have a day or so to come up with an actual plan before heading off to try to defeat the darkspawn.

The only question left to Aedan for the night was where to stay. True, they could march away from town into the dark just to come back the next day, but there hardly seemed to be a point in the endeavour. Someone somewhere could still afford to give a bed for the night, he just needed to remember a rumour from his old life that could give him another option than out of town or in the chantry.

"You really think with the number of refugees here someone whose willing to just let strangers stay at their house will still have spare room?" Alistair reasonably questioned.

"I'm not saying there's anyone left who can take in refugees. What I'm saying is there has to be someone in this entire town who's a friend enough to let us in, especially if we have food," Aedan defended.

"Friend enough?" Alistair laughed "what's that supposed to mean?"

Aedan managed a sound somewhere between scoffing and laughing. "Well, okay, I don't like getting into all the details because it makes me sound pompous but— "

"—you, pompous? Perish the thought," Morrigan chimed in, always part of any conversation she could make her way into without seeming to care.

"Anyway," Aedan continued, "Duncan might have told you what the whole Cousland thing means, son of the Teyrn and all that."

"The middle of a blight after your lands have been stolen is hardly the time to flash your nobility around though, is it?" Alistair scoffed.

If the words had come from anyone but the well-meaning but blundering Alistair, the sharp sting Aedan felt at the mention of the invasion would quickly have grown into rage. As it was, he just continued trying to make his point: "the truth is I've always found the whole thing to be a burden," he commenced shortly. "My point is, though, that with nobility you have one advantage, if only just the one. You always know someone who knows someone no matter where you are in Thedas. Listen to me, this may just be Lothering but I know someone here well enough to persuade them to let us in even if they've said no to all the refugees, just watch."

"And the point of this would be what, exactly?" Morrigan practically spat out against either civilization or her new found proximity to the chantry and Templars.

"Listen," Aedan started jovially, comically, "you may be used to the living in dirt bit, but right about now I'd sell your left kidney for a bath so I'd ease up on the sass were I you."

Morrigan hardly made a reaction beyond her usual show of insult at anything but the utmost courtesy. Aedan was right, at any rate. How Aedan became so good a tracker or how he remembered the right piece of information in all the rumours was unclear, but he found exactly the type of people he was looking for. A family with a soft spot for old noble ties, cast out and living in Lothering, with enough secrets to hide that they'd kept the refugees well out of their walls.

"And you're sure about this?" asked Alistair, incredulous that anyone could have gathered the necessary information in less than an hour and still have had time to buy some food.

"Trust me," Aedan said simply, his almost devious smile coming back across his lips as he knocked, with the confidence and light of a known friend on the stranger's door.

The door opened about a foot and the entirety of its frame was taken up by a man who seemed almost as tall as Aedan and even more wide in the shoulders. It put Aedan slightly off guard. A man of his height (6'4'') and the build of a warrior had significantly few chances to feel anything but giant. What surprised him even more, however, was the jovial, almost soft voice the man produced in an accent mixed between Ferelden and high born marcher. "Can I help you," the voice enounced.

Despite momentarily losing his focus, Aedan was now certain he had the right house.  _Ferelden Marcher? I don't think you could fake that accent if you tried._ In light of his new confidence, Aedan was able to reproduce his persuasive smile almost instantly, the smile that had been his friend for so long. "Messere Hawke, I presume? You wouldn't know me, but I believe my mother was a friend of yourmother's, back when she was still lady Leandra Amell, I bring sad news—well, and food."

"So, you come here after all this time expecting what, exactly?"

"Nothing so much, nothing so much. Maybe some stories. You see my mother, she—well, the games of the nobility are kind to no one, as I'm sure you're quite aware. Sufficed to say the maker seems to have decided my mother pay the ultimate price now rather than later."

A faint, concerned smile came to the eldest man of the Hawke line, and his voice seemed mixed between genuine concern and regret as he began "I'm sorry. I wish I could help but—"

Aedan cut him off, too sly to ever take a simple no. "If this… is about your family secret… I'll tell no one, I—"

"—how did you?"

"Just listen. I was recruited into the grey warden just before the recent incident in the south. There's no one in less of a position to threaten anyone, I assure you."

Whether it was his silver tongue, the ambition in his eye, or something completely else, Aedan's persuasion had worked. Hawke nodded lightly, knowingly, before closing the door shut to disarm any traps that were preventing it opening all the way.

Aedan was happy for his victory, but his eyes filled with concern as he looked to Alistair. "for one day, Alistair, please just pretend the word apostate isn't in your vocabulary," he tried to pass as matter-of-factly as possible.

"What?" exclaimed Alistair, practically choking on his own surprise.

"Just trust me," Aedan pleaded before turning back to the door with kind smile in place, just in time for it to open.

"Well then, I guess I should be letting you in," smiled Hawke, opening the door wide and letting everyone in before closing it tight behind them and barring it back up.

The shack was more from the inside than Aedan had expected. He knew they were ex nobility but he'd hardly imagine that a household of three apostates—seemingly two apostates in the time since the rumour began—would have two stories with a basement and more than a single room to spare despite the four people who still lived there, none of which shared any space. He hid being impressed well enough, jovially bringing the food out to add to the home's supply as he began to relate the sad news of his mother's demise. He played his cards well enough. Leandra was a magnificent hostess, and she refused to spend a moment without recounting a story or learning something about all the visitors now in her home, despite her current situation.

Aedan was pulled aside some time within all the stories, and Hawke led him away from the kitchen into what seemed to once have been Malcom's study. "I don't mean to seem inhospitable," Hawke started, "but I figure since you've eaten and rested and told your stories you can tell me what really brought you here?"

"Don't believe I just dropped in to see a family friend now that everything I've ever had has been taken from me?" Aedan questioned, with a toothy grin.

"I don't believe anyone gets to be as smooth as you are without a few secrets," Hawke pointed out shrewdly.

"To be honest, I needed a place to stay, preferably with the option for a warm bath, or any bath. I just remembered the right story at the right time."

"No more secrets than that, then?" Hawke questioned, every wary, ever the defender of his family.

"Well, everyone has a few secrets, don't they. Well, everyone but Alistair, I don't think he could keep his mouth shut about anything."

"Somehow, I don't put it past even your companion Alistair to have secrets."

"So, what's your secret then, maybe you could persuade me to tell me mine if you tell me yours" Aedan smiled.

"You mean besides being an apostate who is also the son and brother of other apostates?" Hawke questioned.

"Well, it's hardly a secret if I already know, is it."

"Somehow, I think you already know my other secrets."

The tension in the air was thick, and it was quite clear to Aedan what Hawke meant despite his subtlety. Aedan blushed lightly, surprised at his own modesty now of all times. Still, he bit his lip at the thought before shaking his head lightly, "another time perhaps it could have been something but…"

"Alistair, right?" Hawke nodded knowingly. "Oh common, don't look so terrified. He may be too distracted to notice half the time but anyone with a head on their shoulders could catch those looks you give him when you think no one's watching you."

"So you've been watching me, have you?" Aedan sang out charismatically.

"Who wouldn't? But, you must know it's a chance in a billion, he was raised in an abbey. Look, I'm not asking you to give up hope, I have to get my family as far out of here as soon as I can anyhow. But, for now we're both here, and we both know the big secret, and we're both heading off to uncertain fates and almost certain battle or death. What's one night?"

"Well, when you say it like that," Aedan smiled, his look lingering on the mage's incredibly un-mage-ly physique as he bit his bottom lip with a soft, blushing smile.

"So, what about that bath? I'm sure you'll hardly be missed," Hawke continued, seemingly as much the persuasive type as Aedan himself.  _Maybe that's why he let us in_  Aedan couldn't help but wonder. Still, it was a day of great luck and many compliments, and though his heart was very much already in someone else's hands, Aedan knew that Hawke was right. Who knew what would happen between him and Alistair? It was most likely nothing. For now he had a chance at one night with someone who actually seemed to understand, who had lost and still needed to lead, to protect those in his company. Aedan saw a lot of himself in Hawke, and he wasn't about to let a chance like that, also seemingly one in a billion, pass him by.

For a short time, it had seemed the whole affair had passed by rather anticlimactically. Aedan had been attended to and allowed to sink into a warm tub, and Hawke was presumably still chatting it up with the rest of the congregation. Once Aedan had had time to wash and properly sink into the familiar comforting warmth he had taken so much for granted when he had a bath, however, Hawke reappeared, with the upper hand from still being dressed.

"Mm, really, I'd just gotten comfortable" Aedan teased, as Hawke approached his side. He was handed a towel and he mock reluctantly climbed out of the tub, but he went no further before he was pinned against the wall and began to feel the warmth of Hawke's lips along his neck and shoulders, an unexpected change from Aedan's usual pattern. He gasped out, not having expected it, but allowing himself to melt some into the oddly familiar stranger.

Aedan was led away, half naked through the vacant upper floor toward Hawke's room. He made no protest, and began fumbling to drop Hawke's armour-robes from his chiseled form. What came next was unlike anything Aedan ever felt. With each touch of Hawke's hands, warm and cold, electrifying sensations of magic pulsed through Aedan's veins. He moaned out, mouth hanging open, as he was persuaded through similar sensations onto the bed. Hawke's magic was enthralling, and his stamina was something Aedan had never known even in Rory, something that matched his new found dark motivation. Whether anyone heard was unclear, though unlikely given the magic Hawke seemed to possess, but as they spent the night intertwined, one and then the other relinquishing power, melting into their similarities and driven passionately by their differences, it was clear Aedan had found an equal. Hawke knew his burdens and his pain, and he held none of it against him. Instead, both were allowed to stop protecting everyone and simply be with each other, mentally and in passionately physical love making—for a single night.


	12. Due Diligence and Drunken Discourse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to involve a lot of recap from the game. For the most part, I've offered a summary of conversations most of us have probably seen before. The conversations that I did include I often brought about in different ways than what's possible in the game, but I still try to keep the quotes from the game as accurate as possible. Hopefully this won't be all too much fluff, and I'll make an honest effort to actually write combat into the story (I'm always afraid to write combat, so I tend to avoid it in my fun pieces). Anyhow, let's get to it, shall we?

Aedan woke the next morning still intertwined with Hawke. It was an altogether unfamiliar situation—it had only even come close to happening on his last night with Dairren, which, it must be said, ended terribly. It wasn't quite what he'd dreamed the previous night, nor was it what he was fast realizing he wanted, but it was pleasant, in its own way.

Hawke and the Cousland prodigy, it is true, had the potential to be the greatest power couple of all time, but none of them would have been truly whole. As much passion as the kindred souls could generate they had a few things in common that made any significant relationship between them impossible.

Both men were men of duty, and they both needed, more than anything, to be needed. For Hawke, this meant that Carver, Bethany, and his mother would always come first and that no matter how strong his eventual mate might be, he or she would need him on some level as significant as his family did, and he or she would stand with him to protect those he loved.

It meant something similar for Aedan. Aedan and Rory had lived through childhood, duty, and passion together and, though he had loved the man, Rory's rejections and his final sacrifice made it clear that Rory, like Hawke, was all too similar—not that it mattered anymore. Aedan had needed Rory, as it turned out, but Rory had never needed Aedan. Aedan's protection had been a matter of duty.

Aedan knew of only two people that had ever really needed him, and he loved both of them very differently. The first, of course, was his nephew Oren, the prime source of Aedan's happiness in his former life. The second, Aedan was all too fast realising, was Alistair—the man who could make even the blight look bright, and who still needed to be led to greatness. Whether or not anything ever came of Aedan's love for Alistair, both he and Hawke knew it was the path he had to take.

And all that was why the single night between Hawke and Aedan had been perfect. They actually understood each other, and understood the situation they were in, and yet they knew how they felt for each other. It had been more than sex, more than anything had been between pairings like Aedan and Dairren—it had been a mutual vision of destiny, and a celebration of the eternity that could never be. That single night, because it was a single night, was the entire story of the rise and fall of one of the greatest relationships that could ever exist, an eternal love that would forever live as a memory, as a whisper in the silent night, as something that always was and yet could never be.

The Hawkes left later that day, exactly as predicted, though they left their home open to Aedan and whomever he chose to bring, which was very much not predicted. Having slept very briefly, Aedan could not have been more appreciative, especially when he realized just how long his day would be. It seemed that everyone in Lothering had a problem that they couldn't fix on their own. Worse than that, at least half of their problems were inter-conflicting in some way or another. No one had any food or any money and there were less than enough supplies to go around, not mentioning all the people who needed rescuing or thought they needed to rescue the wardens.

Between all the rescuing and fetching and the various other things the people in this town needed, Aedan found himself in an unexpected position. He and his company were better provisioned than he could have expected, with plenty of spare pieces from new broken armour to consider some major repairs. Regardless, Aedan wasn't particularly comfortable with the results of his day. Throughout the hours he'd noticed his group grow almost uncomfortably large. _It's all well and good for now_  he thought.  _It might even help to have a bigger group for a lot of things. But camp and provisions are always going to be tight and with that many people stepping on each other's toes, and Maker knows how many more that will join, there's always going to be trouble._  Still, Aedan couldn't help but smile at the band of misfits gathered around the dusty grey wood dining table of Hawke's Lothering dining room: Alistair, the bright eyed chantry bastard; Morrigan, a nutter, and likely one of the witches of the wilds; Leliana, a bard turned chantry sister who was undoubtedly hiding something; Draki, his overly protective Mabari warhound; the merchant dwarf and his seemingly adopted son whose name had something to do with footwear; and Sten, of the beressad, a quinari soldier (DAII appearance) who made even Aedan seem small by comparison. They would all eat, Aedan would learn what he could of his new companions, and then he would announce his plans. Despite all the duty involved, the night would not have been the same without a steady supply of mead, the hedonism on the evening.

Aedan started where he felt most sure of himself, with his mabari. Most of the time spent with his dog was a matter of warm-hearted reunion, though they did have a minor argument that ended with Aedan crying out something akin to "listen, I know you're a warrior. I know you're not a mule, but I need you to help with the supplies and if you won't just do it as a favour I'll have to make it an order."

To say that Aedan was indignant that his own dog would second guess him would be an understatement. Still, he had to keep on with his investigation of his companions—after getting well on his way to inebriated.

Next, he talked to Sten, or rather he got as close to a conversation as one could have with Sten. Brief as it was, Aedan's conversation with Sten went a long way toward alleviating his concerns. The revered mother had made Sten easy to fear, but Aedan saw something different. He saw a man who was bound to duty, and who was willing to do anything to fulfil his duty. True, it was almost extreme in Sten's case, but anyone who had given a symbol, a single sword, so much meaning that losing it in battle tore him apart was bound to be more than just a killer, or even just a qunari. Aedan made a mental note to learn more about the qunari, but for the time being he could tell that Sten was becoming aggravated. So, he allowed the man to hurdle off to the privacy of the cellar in a huff. Sten would go where he was told, it was clear he didn't feel he needed to know the plan.

Aedan felt his eyelids growing heavy, and he couldn't help but feel like the day had been intolerably long already. He decided, however, that their conversations were a matter of duty, and he poured himself another and moved on.

It was clear the dwarves were well meaning and that they had simply been caught in a few unfortunate situations over the years. Beyond that, the provisions and rune crafting they brought to the group, as well as their knowledge of dwarven culture, were invaluable assets. With that quickly settled he moved on to Morrigan.

Morrigan had made herself valuable, it was true, but Aedan still knew precious little about her. His only slip up, somewhere amidst the legends of the wilds, the stories of magic, and the great reveal of the secret and lonely little girl in Morrigan, Aedan let a shard of his own secret slip out. Though his response of "most men, perhaps" to Morrigan's certainty that every man wanted to believe that every woman was weak and in love with him could well have gone unnoticed or passed as flirting. It was uncharacteristically transparent of Aedan to be so honest, and though he doubted anyone else noticed, he couldn't help but realize how bold Alistair's presence made him at times.

By the time Aedan reached Leliana, he decided to leave talk of mission to the next day. He paid enough attention to gather the general picture of Leliana's story, but he really wasn't focused until she said something strangely accurate and it caught Aedan by surprise.

What she said was something along the lines of "forbidden fruit is always the sweeter, no?" It was strange because it was accurate, but Aedan had the impression that Leliana took the phrase to mean that people only wanted what was difficult to obtain, and he felt, for the first time that evening, that he really had to speak out about it.

Aedan smiled as he pondered the question. "I think it probably seems that way most of the time, to people who aren't so directly involved. But I don't think anyone goes out looking to fall for someone they can't have, if that's what you mean—it's far too much trouble. It rarely works out and most of the time you're pining like a fool and miserable about the odds being stacked up against you. What makes it seem sweeter, I think, is that when people have enough hope to go against the odds and find a way to love each other in spite of it all—it always seems more beautiful, more special, just more. It's wonder is earned, and no one included can ever just ignore it like people who have wonder handed to them like a common piece of bread."

"That is… wonderful. Are you speaking from experience then?"

Aedan glanced around to realize that, for the moment, everyone else was busy and the two of them had relative privacy. He wasn't sure if he'd grown to trust this stranger just from hearing about her past, if he was drunk, or if Leliana was more subtly persuasive than he gave her credit for, but he answered: "I think it's safe to say that I'm probably trapped on the side of pining like an idiot, but I'm hopeful."

"Is that so?" Leliana chimes with a voice far more sultry than Aedan expected.

He practically jumped at the question "Oh Maker no! I didn't mean it like that, I—"

"Oh… I see… so you have a problem with little old me after all?"

"No! I—" he sighed "if I tell you a secret will you keep it despite your past?"  
"Despite my!" Leliana started, furious. She collected herself and calmed her indignation before continuing "I should think my former life makes me more able to keep secrets, don't you?"

"It's just, I've never told anyone who wasn't directly involved," he protested. Aedan paused and gathered his thoughts for a moment before continuing in a voice lower than a whisper "It's not that there's anything wrong with you Leliana. I'm just more interested in people like—"

"Morrigan, of course. I should have known, I—"

"…Like Alistair."

"Oh. I am not sure why I never suspected, with all those looks of admiration and praise. I" she paused "I never thought you were so—open minded."

"I wouldn't exactly call it a choice."  
"If it makes you feel less awkward, many of my tastes are… similar."

Aedan smiled and the conversation ended on that note, though he'd never have dreamed to find a friend and confidante in the ex-bard.

The night continued and of all his companions, there was only one left to speak to—Alistair. Aedan wasn't sure it was a brilliant idea to have put his conversation with Alistair off until he was completely pissed, but he knew for certain it gave him the best chance not to act like a love sick fool or a nervous wreck throughout the conversation.

"So, Alistair, I guess that leaves you" Aedan smiled.

"My, don't I feel special," Alistair retorted in mock bitterness and angst."

Awe, com'on, don't take it that way. Maybe I just trust you enough that I figured if we didn't get a chance to get to this you were the least likely to spontaneously decide to kill me."

"Was it much of a competition?" Lot of nutters, they are" Alistair joked with drunken light-heartedness.

Aedan laughed "how's the mead?"

"Not bad. Did you know that mead is stronger than ale? And deceptively fruity…"

"Have I gotten you drunk now? Is that what you're saying?"

"Drunk? Me? Pssht, never. Well, it'll take more than this, anyway" he lied with great gusto.

Aedan laughed again, genuinely happy despite all the darkness in his life. "So, seriously, is there anything I should know Alistair?"

"Yes, actually," Alistair started in a serious tone," I'd sell any of you for a good cheese," he managed before bursting out laughing at his own joke. After a long silence, he continued "No? Not funny? Fine. Spoil sport. If you really want to be Mr. Serious, then what do you want to know?"

"Well, umm, alright" Aedan scrambled to think of something appropriate to ask. "Well, let's start with something simple, yea? You said the chantry raised you to be a Templar rather than a brother. I understand the basic difference of course, you know, different armour" he laughed "but what does it all mean, this Templar thing? Am I going to have to worry about you reporting the Hawkes or, you know, killing Morrigan in her sleep?

Alistair laughed at the last part. "That's a lot of questions all at once" he laughed nervously. "alright well, being a Templar itself is pretty simple. Essentially, they're trained to fight. The chantry would have you believe they're strictly a defensive order, but don't let that fool you, they're an army."

_Perhaps not so blind in his happiness after all,_  Aedan thought.

"The other main purpose for templars is, of course, to hunt mages. To that end, we train in talents that drain mana and disrupt spells. Against a normal person, I'm just a guy in a metal suit."

Aedon scoffed lightly at his own thoughts.  _Just a guy in a metal suit? Hardly. More like valiant warrior, formidable soldier—though, the armour really isn't half bad. No, in fact the armour's is actually pretty alright, or… or no armour, definitely no armour. Aedan! Focus!_ "So! Umm… the rest of the questions then?"

"Oh! Of course, how silly of me. Well, anyway it's a fighting style, and it can be learned, but the chantry swears it's not as powerful without lyrium. As for what it means for my loyalty, I think we owe Hawke a favour for all of this, if nothing else. And I can't promise anything for Morrigan but if I do kill her, it probably won't have anything to do with the whole witch bit, maybe the the bi—mm. Well, anyhow. As to how it's all different from a brother , Templars are more the exalted army, and they're lead by the knight-commander. Brothers, on the other hand, are the religious sort, they answer to revered mothers and grand clerics. But really, honestly," he began laughing already "could you see me taking a brother's vows?" he burst out now, unable to even keep the laughter subdued any longer.

"Templars don't take vows?"

"They do, but not vows of, you know. Maker I hope not, anyway! Though that would explain a lot… so I hear."

"Or so you hear? So you mean…"

"Umm, maybe I am drunk. Andraste's—should we be talking about this," rambled Alistair.

"Alistair… Have you never…?"

"Never what? Owned a good pair of shoes?"

_Oh maker he's going to make this difficult_  "You know what I mean…"

"Not sure that I do! Have I never… seen a basilisk? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?"

_By the sword!_  "A lamppost? Really? Now you're making fun of me."

"Make fun of my dear comrade in arms? Perish the thought! Well, how about you? Have **you** ever  **licked** a lamppost in winter?"  
_Andraste's breath the analogy…_ "…a few, actually" Aedan admitted.

"And your tongue didn't get frozen in the process?" Alistair laughed in a tone somewhere between happiness and nerves. "I myself have never had  **the pleasure.** Not that I haven't thought of it of course but, well you know."

"Never the right time?"

"Well! The chantry is hardly the place for rambunctious boys, is it? Besides, you're the one who said a few, as in  **more**  than one: the scandal! The impropriety! Aren't you supposed to be an heir or something? What does that even mean, a few?"

"Well, if you're really interested it was three. One was by best friend since as long as I could remember. I even dreamed of taking off to the provinces or even to Orlais so we could be together away from all the  **status ,** and the  **duty**. The second was, a mistake, more or less. A great friend, to be sure, but it was never going to be anything and I realize now that I shouldn't have, even though there was an understanding that… well, status and all that. They both—umm—they both died when Highever was taken. The third was someone I never expected to meet and it's hard to explain but it was like, true love but all at once…"

"All at once? You mean with someone you hardly knew? How could you love anyone you don't know?"

_If only you knew._ "It wasn't like that! It was like, really understanding, right away, without needing all those words and all that time. But it was also knowing that duty wouldn't let it be anything more than what it was. We were both going off to battle and life threatening danger and trying to be a hero and all that—we just needed one night together to really remind us we're humans, remind us there's more to the world than burdens and weight. But umm—sorry—so you said you didn't know what the Templar vows were?"

Alistair was caught profoundly off guard, it was clear. But, after a long silence, he picked up the question. "I never took my vows, actually. Duncan recruited me before the time ever came."

And with that, the topic was changed and the night moved on. The men talked of Duncan and of grey warden glory. They talked of duty and honour and, most importantly, fun. It was late into the night when both were off to bed, **stuck**  in a room with separate beds (though Aedan hardly found it unpleasant) for going to bed do long after all the others.


	13. Sour Mage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else getting really antsy waiting for the relationship to develop. I'm the writer and even I'm starting to glare at the story like "get on with it!" Unfortunately, I've set up this story on the pretence of plausibility, so, as much as I really want to get to the good bits, we're going to need to wade through some more character development and I should probably throw some gore in there for you guys. Anyway, hold on tight, keep your pants on (or don't, whatever), and we should get to the squishy and smutty bits soon enough.
> 
> And: I'm terrible at writing combat. Though tips would be appreciated I'm just trying to fit something demi-interesting in for those of you who are after more adventure than me focusing on conversations and the angsty and lovey stuff.

"We'll head to the Dales first" Aedan stated decisively over breakfast the next morning. "If these maps are accurate their current camp should be close, and when we're done we can take the Brecillian passage north to Denerim. I still want more information on what's going on and we need to know if there's anything to the whole urn of sacred ashes thing before it's worth it to go to Redcliff, anyway."

Alistair seemed concerned about leaving off the trip to Redcliff, but Aedan had made a good point. If there really was something wrong with the Arl, and the urn could help, they should probably find the blighted thing before running east. No one outwardly objected, and so they were off as soon as they were done with breakfast.

\---Line Break---

"Morrigan! Buff!" Alistair screamed out near the beginning of the third darkspawn onslaught of the journey.

"Must I?" she responded, in a tone far too blasé to fit the current situation.

"Morrigan1 This is not the time!" Aedan screamed out, ducking into his shield pommel, throwing two darkspawn towards Sten's mighty blade.

"Fine" she practically hissed, and interrupted her preferred destruction magic to actually lay down some protection.

Aedan wasn't sure if she was aggravated over something in particular or just against being turned into the group healer, but she had really started to aggravate him. It was likely because she was always so hard on Alistair, but he pushed the thought back, forcing himself to concentrate on not dying.

He pulled the attention of more of the darkspawn, walking back and keeping them in place as best he could while Leliana pranced behind them, nearly invisible, and started to pick them off one by one. But she wasn't fast enough. Out of the five he'd originally pulled to him, two were practically unharmed. Together they rushed Aedan and sent him flying to the floor. He stopped on the ground a moment, dizzy and unresponsive. He could see Sten rushing over from the other end of the field to help Leliana.

Suddenly, Alistair let out an agonizing scream. A Hurlock had sliced nearly clean through his arm. Aedan leapt to his feet and ran over. "Morrigan!" Aedan screamed, rage boiling in his voice "heal!" He reached Alistair's side just as the healing started to take effect. Aedan smashed the Hurlock down with his shield and threw his sword down into its neck. The darkspawn were still rampant, but the wardens were making good headway.

"Lock your shield in with mine" Aedan screamed out over the incessant darkspawn laughter as Alistair regained his feet. The shields went up together and both warriors braced themselves. In tune, they began to advance, one struggle step after the other, swords used practically for the soul purpose of keeping the spawn in front of their shields. With great effort, they managed to overcome the blighted creatures and push them back until the entire group was forced off the edge of a cliff.

Throughout this ordeal, Sten had taken to keeping the worst of the creatures away from the mage. He was overrun by a group of three darkspawn from either side. Valiantly, Sten barely acknowledge his injuries, though he was standing in a pool of his own blood. Instead, pushing all the stamina he had left, he threw his entire weight into whirling his great sword out and cut down the foes that overcame him.

Morrigan had finally caught up to all the healing that needed to be done, and they finally outnumbered the dark spawn. Leliana stunned those that remained, and the bard and four warriors (including the dog) decimated the last of their opponents.

"Maker" Alistair breathed, panting, "that was close."

Aedan put his weaponry back onto his back in one quick motion and stormed towards Morrigan. "I don't care if you don't want to be here, I don't care if you think you're too good for us, if you're going to keep fighting with us you can't just decide which magic you feel like doing and when" he seethed.

There was no response beyond a smug smile and a departure toward the right direction, but if it had been anyone other than Morrigan, Aedan would have sworn she was upset. Still, they moved on, there was no choice.

Once they'd finally made it to a safe enough location and set up camp, Aedan confronted her about it. From what he gathered of the witch's riddles and sidestepping, she'd managed to grow fond of Aedan's bravado, or something of the like, though she would never have admitted it directly.

"Maker, how does this keep happening?" Aedan sighed. "Look, Morrigan, I'm sorry if I upset you, I'm sorry if I should always be nice to you or if, I don't know, something else is going on here, but it's nothing personal. We need you here, I need you here, but because you're a terrific mage when you choose to be, not…" Aedan trailed off. There was little to no response and he just gave up, wandering back to the core of camp where everyone else was.

"Maker I'm glad I didn't ask her to cook" he sighed out with a smile that seemed to say  _ **can you believe it**_ as he joined the others.

"At least she **can** cook," Alistair pointed out.

"Yeah, but at least if my cooking kills us it'll be an accident," Aedan chuckled.

The rest of the night passed peaceably enough, and the men talked well into the night before giving up their watch to others and getting some sleep.


	14. The things we'd do

Days later, deep within the Brecillian forest, Leliana, Alistair, Morrigan, and Aedan built camp along their journey to solve the problems of the Dalish. The forest was vast, and it had become clear that their work in the Dales would take longer than they could have predicted early on. Everyone was on edge, growing tired from repeated nights in the forest and egged on by the knowledge that they would need to spend yet another night surrounded by likely foes. Constantly keeping watch had begun to wear on all their constitutions, and was very obviously wearing on their patience.

Alistair and Aedan fixed armour over conversation. Aedan couldn't help but look too long into Alistair's eyes, at his blushing lips, growing utterly distracted. He almost missed the turn of their conversation, his absent mindedness pushed his recent guilt back onto him once again.

"Maybe that's exactly what Duncan saw in you, though, you're quite clever, almost frighteningly so."

Aedan smiled at the compliment, but laughed darkly before his next words "if I were really frighteningly clever I'd probably have defected the moment I got out of the gates at Highever, fled North and tried to swim the Waking Sea—about the same chance of survival, anyway.

"You wouldn't do that, you're too honourable, too good a person to do something like that… aren't you?" Alistair's voice tinged with worry at the last words.

Aedan sighed lightly. There was a time he would have just lied, succumbed to the overbearing desire to protect Alistair's sweet illusion at all cost. Whether it was the lack of sleep, or the sensation that the world was all too full of lying already, Aedan couldn't lie. So, he told the heavy, dark truth: "there was a time I would have agreed with you, and I wish I still could. But," he sighed "I may have stayed to fight the blight, Alistair, but if I could bring back the people I love I think I'd do anything, no matter how terrible. Even if it meant I had to march the blight through Ferelden and the rest of Thedas myself, and had to let everything fall except this one place to bring them back to. Even if I'd die before they came back and it didn't even get me an extra minute with them—I'd destroy everything to give them another chance." Aedan's heart fell at the look on Alistair's face, but he continued: "I don't fight the blight because I'm valiant or anything like that, I fight it because I'm selfish; it gives me something to focus on, to push all that rage into. If I didn't, then all those people would have died for nothing.

Silence fell between them. Alistair looked on, concerned, disgusted, and seemingly hurt. It tore Aedan inside to know Alistair could have thought the world of him, if he'd only kept his mouth shut. Aedan couldn't say anything. He felt like if he tried, he'd break down completely. He threw down the armour he was mending in frustration, and stood quickly to his feet. He lit a torch on the fire and took off into the forest, presumably under the pretense of gathering firewood.

\---Line Break---

Morrigan, predictably, was as far off as she could safely remain from the main camp. She worked on her own and expected to give and receive as little help as possible. Leliana was irrevocably part of the group, however. She'd been preparing food and, seeing the abrupt end of Alistair and Aedan's conversation, she moved to cook over the main fire. It was a useful position, both because the fire was bigger and because it allowed her to be close to Alistair, lest he need to discuss the recently ended would-be argument.

"I can't believe he would just say those things" Alistair offered finally. "Saying that he'd do terrible things, just to feel better about his family, I—you don't think he'd actually do them, do you?"

Leliana stayed quiet for a moment, working on the food, and gathered her thoughts. She knew how Aedan felt about Alistair and, being his friend, felt she needed to defend him. "Well, I doubt anything he could do would bring back his family, so I really doubt you have to worry about the things he'd do to bring them back. But…" she paused "Alistair, perhaps you should think of it this way—if you could bring back Duncan and the grey warden, could you honestly say you wouldn't try anything?"

"Not spreading the blight!"

"In this case, Alistair, I think it was just an expression. Perhaps you should be happy that Aedan trust you enough and considers you important enough as his brother-at-arms to tell you how he feels, even if he is obviously ashamed of it."

"Maybe—hey, how did you get so smart anyway?"

"Life as a bard teaches one to be perceptive. It is only to be expected, no?"

"I don't think anything about you is to be expected. You're really special, you know?"

Leliana froze for a moment, trying in futility not to let her blank mind show through her actions "Umm, thank you, Alistair. Perhaps… perhaps you should go find Aedan, before he loses himself in the night."  



	15. The Other Side of The Fence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Though I’ve mostly kept this story third person limited to Aedan, we finally get some insight into how Alistair is feeling in all this. I’m quite excited about it, actually, it turned out rather differently than I had even been picturing it as I was writing the rest of the story. Also, I apologize in advance if the stream-of-consciousness stile I’ve found appropriate to how I imagine Alistair thinking is a bit much to handle.
> 
> A/N2: I’m sorry if we jump through a lot in this chapter, but I wanted to cover a lot of ground without actually having to play out another month or so of this back and forth almost scene by scene. Forgive me, and remember, it’s all so we can get to the good stuff faster.

  


After the night in the forest, Alistair became confused. _Why would she mention Aedan when I compliment her_ , he wondered. When he confronted Aedan the man seemed uneasy, though he made it clear he had no intention of being with Leliana, and would do absolutely nothing to stop Alistair from trying. Between Leliana and Aedan, secrets were kept, though this became an increasingly difficult. Morrigan had caught on to Aedan’s reference of “most men” and was constantly on edge about the fact that Aedan didn’t even seem to find her attractive. Alistair, of course, was confused and well meaning—which made it all the more difficult. Still, secrets were kept.

Aedan explained along their journey that he didn’t want to stand in Leliana’s way if she was interested. He was still convinced that the chantry boy could never be interested in another man, despite the fact that there was a notable increase in the number of moments they spent a little too close, lingering too long, focusing silently on the unspoken connection between them.

((--Line Break--))

_The Journal of Aedan Cousland—9:30 Dragon- 29_ _th_ _of Solace_

_It has been just over two months now since I laid eyes upon the subject of my infatuation. It seems the more I try to resist, to forget and repress it, the more it stands clearly in my mind. I know I am a fool, there are no prospects with which to soothe my longing heart, and I’m sure there never will be—and yet… Every word from those lips is like a balm against the evil of the world. The wonder of youth mixed with a true enough understanding of reality, equal parts wonder and hope—these things both make up the person and the words that issue forth. A miracle that any could possibly be as such in a time such as this, and I should feel honoured merely to be able to witness that miracle—instead, like the petty human that I am, I find myself only craving more._

_Why must this infatuation torture me, those eyes, those lips, those strong arms and the bravest constitution, every breath, every gaze—but how sweet a torture in comparison to those I am finally able to bare the weight of. No, I cannot help but perceive it as equally painful, equally futile, equally devastating, but it comes with little regret, and guilt that lessens by the day._

_Aedan, you are a fool, but as long as you keep dreaming, perhaps you can make it through your pain whole. So, if nothing else, your foolishness will keep you sane, embrace it—you obviously can do nothing to fight or quench this madness else._

Though Aedan had no way of knowing it, his thoughts were neither as alienated as he thought, nor completely accurate. The world was soon to change for both men, forever.

((--Line Break--))

_Maker Alistair! Stop staring at his chest! It’s the North, it’s hot, men chop firewood topless it’s not that strange a phenomenon. Men with sinewy, muscled—what are you doing, stop! Stop, stop, stop! What would the revered mother think? What would Aedan think? Get a hold of yourself man, if you don’t Aedan will think you’re a weirdo and then he’ll never like you an—you’re not supposed to want him to like you, Alistair, you’re a man, a man who should be dating a woman, a man who should have kept his eyes on Leliana after the first night he realized this could be a problem, a man who likes women—Maker even his sweat is beautiful, how can someone working so hard be so beautiful? I’ve seen people working before, it’s not like it’s new, there’s just something about the way his long black hair gets all messed up and sticks to his shimmering skin—he really has gotten tan since we’ve started off—and then those eyes! Oh maker those eyes, if only I could get lost in them without feeling all inadequate after, and hot, and like I’m having a heart attack. I can’t believe he hasn’t caught on yet, he’s so clever, and he’s constantly making me babble like a nervous girl and—well, thank Andraste he hasn’t, actually or he’d… well he’d… oh what’s the use—I need to find a lake to bathe in, a cold lake, and quickly._

((Line Break))

_The Journal of Aedan Cousland—9:30 Dragon—6_ _th_ _of August_

_I’m beginning to think Journaling was the invention of madmen who just didn’t want to admit they talked to themselves frequently—though, that may only be me. I’m feeling somewhat unsure of myself in my abilities as a leader. I’ve felt unsure about a lot of things before, but usually not those abilities. Actually, I think confidence in leading and the bedroom are the only two kinds I tend to have. Still, I think it’s likely I let my sympathies get away with me this time. I couldn’t kill him, and there was no way I could ever make Alistair kill a man in cold blood, yet I think I doubt those facts make it any more wise to run around Ferelden with an elf sent to kill me. Granted, at this point I’m starting to think it’s more likely that he’d try anything to sleep with me. I can’t exactly tell him what I told the others, he’s most definitely a man, and a beautiful man, but I generally see him next to Alistair and the comparison—even if I’d been raised more accustomed to equal elves I think Alistair would always win that competition. Should I be writing all this down? I should probably remember to burn this later… it kind of makes the use of “person” rather than women everywhere else absurdly telling. In any case, though, I really should know better than to trust smooth talking well built men, especially considering the game of persuasion was the only one I played for years. Still, only time will tell, I suppose, since I find myself even less willing to kill the man in cold blood now, long, long after battle._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It’s almost time! Are you excited? I’m excited.


End file.
